After the Tone
by TapesAndRecords
Summary: "His voice is crackly and thick, from sleep and a bad connection... " He calls her, and she sleeps through it. Most of it. Fluffy/Angsty Tiva. Two-shot.
1. Please leave your message

**So, uh, this is quite short and quite random. But I kind of like it and I needed to vent, Tony-style. And I guess this is the result of that. Hopefully, neither of them are OOC, but that is something I struggled with. I love writing really descriptive things, but people don't tend to say really dramatic things in everyday conversation, so I had to keep amending what the both of them said.**

**Disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when your phone rings in public, and it's the theme tune, and you wait for it to play a little longer.**

**Listening to: Higher Love, by James Vincent McMorrow**

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><p>The beeping sound of the phone rings out into the still apartment.<p>

_Beep beep_

. .

_Beep beep_.

She doesn't hear it; just sleeps right through each noise and rolls over at the automated speech of  
><em>please leave your message after the tone<em>.

"I had a dream I died, Ziva."  
>The caller dives straight in- no 'hello' or 'call me when you hear this'. Just a story.<p>

His voice is crackly and thick, from sleep and a bad connection. When he pauses, there is an eerie buzzing that nobody will pay attention to, but it hisses away regardless.

"And I know you'll think I'm drunk, or deranged or whatever, but I promise you I'm not. Just creeped as hell and I've gotta get this out, so please let me.

"I was dead. Not sure how it happened, but it had done and that's all I know.  
>Crazy thing is though, Zee, I didn't feel any different. I didn't think I'd missed an opportunity or it wasn't my time. I was dead. And I was okay with that.<p>

"Because I think you were dead too. I mean, that's the only answer I can think of, as to why I'd be okay with dying.  
>I haven't had kids, and I'd like to. I haven't settled down, but I... I'd like to. I haven't bucked my ideas together and done a frickin' thing about how I feel.<p>

"So the only reason that I can think of, why I'd die and not give a damn, is because you must have died, too.

"God, why am I telling you this?

"..."

The hissing background static remains for many minutes, with only stiff breathing audible from the other side.

Still, Ziva sleeps, unaware of the confessions and torture going on at the end of the line.

"Dammit, Ziva. This would be so much easier if you'd picked up the phone!"  
>The tone is loud, enough to stir the sleeping creature two rooms away.<p>

"Anyway, Zee. I, uh, guess I'm trying to say something here.  
>If you died, nothing would make sense anymore, and I'd only be alright when I was dead, too. Which... sounds totally creepy and suicidal and I bet you're thinking I'm crazy-"<p>

"I do not think you are crazy, Tony." she says, having picked up the phone and connected herself.

"Oh. Hey."

"Hello."  
>Her voice is thick and accented, but riddled with a false sense of calm that both of them know is just an air.<p>

"Uh, I'm gonna go now. See ya, Zi-"

"Come over, Tony."

"Ziva... i-it's three AM... I can't... this was a dumb waste of time..."

There's a long pause, followed by a deep sigh on his behalf, before he speaks again.

"Fine. But if I look like hell, don't blame me."

She says nothing, just smiles and puts the phone down, sitting on the couch in anticipation.  
>Just five minutes later, a quiet knock sounds on her door, and she rises to open it.<p>

"Why am I here, Ziva?" he asks when he's stepped inside, and she shuts the door before turning to face him.  
>She smiles at him before wrapping her arms round him, deeming it necessary after all he said to her.<p>

When she pulls back, he still looks confused. So she kisses him chastely before sliding her hand into his and pulling him to bed.  
>And they sleep.<p>

And it's so very peaceful.

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><p><strong>Any feedback? (:<strong>

**-Kiera. x**


	2. after the tone

**Hi all. Well, a couple of people wanted me to continue this. When I wrote it, I had no intention of doing so, but after reading it over a couple times, I realized it not only seemed a l'il unfinished, but that I really could do something more with it.  
>I loved the whole voicemail, one-sided conversation, and the fic <strong>_**is **_**called 'After the Tone' so I stuck with that, and set it after the last chapter. I think this'll be the last update, and I'm planning to leave it as a two-shot, but if you want another, feel free to tell me.  
>Hope you enjoy!<strong>

**Disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when you break your DVD player watching your homemade marathon. (oops).**

**Listening to: Breathe by The Cinematic Orchestra feat. Fontella Bass.**

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><p>His phone rings, but he stays sitting on the couch, out of laziness and fear. He knows he made a mistake. He knows he shouldn't have left. But he did and now they're left with the shattered little aftermath. He's really screwed up this time.<p>

_Beep beep._

_.._

_Beep beep._

He knows it's her and that scares him, it really does.  
>He just lets it ring and ring until it gets to voicemail, and he sighs in relief of the automated<br>_please leave your message after the tone_

"I had a dream, Tony."

And just like that, he's hooked; breath catching in his throat and heart pounding. Of all the things she could have said, he never expected _that_.

"I had a dream, that you called me. And you told me all these things, about how life would not make sense if I was not there, and how you would only be at peace in death, if I was dead too.

"And you said about how you would sound... how did you put it? Crazy, and... suicidal, I believe?"

She pauses, her clear voice cut momentarily, and he holds his breath, because it can go two ways now.

"But then I realized, Tony. That it was not a dream. That you really _had _called me, and told me all of this-"

Her voice goes bizarre then- it cracks and ceases-, and he hears a sniff. She's crying, and he's the reason for it.  
>But still, he can't bring himself to pick up the phone in case she'll throw everything in his face. After all of this hell, he doesn't know what he'll do if she realizes they just aren't meant to be.<br>Because they _are_.

"Tony, I don't know what to do. Because everything you said was so perfect, that now I'm afraid I cannot... match up, to what you have said.

"And the other night, it seemed like we were finally going somewhere, and moving on. But then, I woke up and you were gone. But I did not know why- I still don't."

He pulls his hand back from the receiver, his fingers brushing it.  
>The tears in her voice were too much to bear, and he had reached forward. But now she's brought up <em>that<em>, he's worried again. He won't interrupt her, not until she's said her piece.

"I really did have a dream, Tony. It was... wonderful, and completely impossible. At least, I used to think it was. It was not the type of dream _you _talked about. I-I had an ambition; a goal, completely unrealistic.

"It was you, and me. And a house and a family..." she pauses, and he has to strain to hear her next words. "And love."

"That's not unrealistic, Ziva."  
>He says, having picked up now, determined to make her see that they really <em>can<em> have this dream of hers.  
>And they're both crying, too.<p>

"Hang on." he says, putting the phone down and grabbing his keys, drying his eyes as he takes the stairs three at a time.

Five minutes and many car horns later, he's on her doorstep and trying to keep everything together. And when he knocks, it opens instantly and he blinks. Once. Twice.

There are tear tracks on her cheeks, but he doesn't care.  
>Her hair is completely out of place, but he doesn't care.<br>She's swamped in a sweater- one that belongs to him, he thinks-, but he doesn't care.  
>He doesn't think he's ever seen her look as beautiful as she does at this very moment.<p>

Then, when he's stepped inside and closed the door, he holds her so tightly, and the walls fall down and the floodgates open. He just buries his face into her neck and weeps solidly. She does the same into his chest, both of them rocking back and forth with tears and hopes and exhaustion. Her hands ball up into fists and bundle parts of his shirt, and he tangles his hand through her hair.  
>No words are needed, just like they never were.<p>

And when he pulls back and kisses her, and their tears mix as their lips meet, nothing has ever felt as perfect.

They go to bed, and he pulls her tight, as if the world will cease turning if he lets go.  
>And he thinks it just might, so he never does again.<p>

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Don't be afraid to drop a review on your way out.<br>-Kiera. x**


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